


The Man Behind the Mirror

by AnaNovak (mxrvelled)



Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Loki Has Issues, M/M, Mind Control, Origin Story, Pre-Thor (2011), The Author Regrets Everything, Tomki, inspired by another work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 16:45:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5135117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxrvelled/pseuds/AnaNovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had just gotten the call from the director; he'd been cast as the troubled god of mischief. It was a good part, sure, but he was unsure about the character itself. Not that he didn't like antihero types- that was one of his favorite character types to portray- but the very character made him feel uneasy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man Behind the Mirror

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Behind Closed Doors](https://archiveofourown.org/works/893032) by [Ange_de_la_Mort](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ange_de_la_Mort/pseuds/Ange_de_la_Mort). 



> I would like to preface this work with a quick note. I have mixed feelings about RPF, so I'd like to say I have no malicious or disrespectful intentions towards anybody mentioned in this work of fiction.

The actor was smiling slightly as he walked up the stairs, utterly at peace as he continued into the second floor of his house. He turned and headed into the master bedroom, his mind instinctively seeking the familiar feeling brought by being in the room one knew best, but being disappointed as there seemed to be something missing.  
There was an odd feeling in the air as he stepped into his bedroom, a feeling of unease settling deep in his gut. The brunet man smiled to himself like a wolf grinning to diffuse an explosive situation as he walked into the normally homey room. His footsteps seemed too loud, even on the lush carpet. He had been in a good mood; after all, he’d gotten a lead in Thor, and he liked the part.  
Tom’s smile turned genuine as he crossed to the mirror. He tried to see himself as the god, his eyes skimming over the memorized image of his face until it shimmered into a countenance that was hardly his own. Like an autumn wind fluttering water into ripples, as he exhaled he watched himself transcend into the mirror. Loki, himself, Loki, himself, Loki- the two flickered and interchanged until they were one and the actor shivered, the earlier chill returning.  
Finally, the character had been realized. Tom felt the presence of the character, as surely as he saw himself in the mirror before him. There was the feeling of knowing the character; yes, that was the feeling he sought for each character. A tide of empathy swelled in his chest, then overrode, and Tom could have sworn that the other presence had become real.  
Then all of the sudden, his mind was pervaded, filled by the other presence. _Hello, Thomas_ , a voice in his mind hissed softly. _No, this wasn’t right_ , Tom thought, his eyes widening slightly. He was used to the feeling of another entity pervading his mind- in fact, he made a living off of being able to do just that- but this was something else entirely. There, now, a voice not his own had echoed through the non-silence of his mind. _No_ , he protested again, but the thought was lost on the other presence forcing its way into his consciousness.  
Again, the voice spoke. _Hello, Thomas_ , the presence murmured once more, and the voice became more concrete, less of a thought in Tom’s mind than an echo in his ears. “Hello, Thomas… I must confess my gladness that they selected you.”  
In the mirror, Tom could see his lips moving, but it could not be him speaking. “Who- who are you?” he managed to choke out, no breath behind the words. As the question was posed, the Briton watched his face change in the mirror. The soft tan paled to a stark pallor, his jaw became sharper, and his cheekbones more jutting. The soft, blue eyes became cruel green and his hair straightened and darkened as he watched. Tom tried to look away, tried to turn from the mirror but the presence wouldn’t let him.  
“I? I _am_ you, now, just as you are me. But it will not have to be this way forever, my sweet Thomas… just so long until I am able to take your world as my own. But I will be a just leader, Thomas, fear not. I am Loki, and you are mine.”  
_No_ , Tom tried to say, but the word was lost as nothing more than a distant echo in his mind. He struggled against invisible hands holding him in front of the mirror, and he reached for the distant catch of hope that the face in the mirror was an illusion, not the image of his face.  
Whether in his mind or in his body Tom perceived the presence shiver. Loki, it had called itself, but that had to be nothing more than a coincidence. It _had_ to be, Tom tried to tell himself, but the presence only chuckled. This laugh seemed to emanate from Tom’s own throat, and Tom attempted to silence it, to no avail. “No, it is hardly a coincidence,” Loki retorted, the voice more amused than annoyed, “I was simply waiting for the right- for the right vessel. The people will love you, Thomas, just as they will love me. They will worship the ground you walk on, as you pave the way for you to worship me. And when that happens, when the world is ready, I will guarantee you a spot by my side, dear Thomas.”  
“No,” Tom gasped, surprised by the sound of his own voice, and then exclaimed, “No!”  
“You wanted to know me,” the smirking devil’s voice taunted, somehow emanating from everywhere around Tom, surrounding him, suffocating him. The actor tried to shake his head, but the motion was stopped by the feeling of a vice-like, phantom hand cutting off his breath. “Don’t lie to me, my pretty,” the god of lies hissed like cold wind scattering fall leaves.  
“Not… lying,” Tom managed to choke out, then the ghostly hand released, turning to nothing more than the caress of air across his throat. “I wanted to understand you. Just like I would any other character. And that’s what you are. A _character_ ,” the actor breathed, trying to convince himself of that exact supposition.  
An echo of a chuckle floated through the room, then Tom felt a shiver down his spine as goosebumps were raised on the back of his neck, caused by what almost felt like the brush of lips on his skin. Finding the courage to raise his eyes back to the mirror, he saw only himself, and wasn’t sure whether or not to be comforted by that. “I am not merely a character, sweet Thomas,” the character whispered.  
_Leave me alone!_ Tom wanted to scream, but the darkness within his mind forced that thought out. Before he knew what was going on, he’d been forced to his knees in front of the mirror, like he’d been shoved down by the invisible hand on the back of his neck.  
That self-same hand forced his head up, until he looked back at the mirror and saw his own subjugated reflection. Deep in his mind, the small echo of himself pleaded him to do something, swore that this wasn’t right, but the larger, more penetrating force pressed deep, hissing through his mind, “This is exactly where you will be.”  
He could have sworn he saw a taller, paler form in the mirror, standing behind him with one long, thin hand on the back of his neck. _  
_

**Author's Note:**

> Criticism is great, so I'd love to have any feedback!


End file.
